Jealousy and Lies
by Kimberley's Secret
Summary: Vince and Howard now share a large house in Hackney with childhood friends Harley and Michelle. Vince fancies Michelle like **** and Howard likes Harley, but an incident in the past means he pretends to loathe her. Complications intervene! AU. H/OC V/OC


**Jealousy**

Chapter One

_A/N: Hi guys! Well, this is the first chapter of my first Mighty Boosh fic, and please excuse me if the grammar is a bit iffy as I am writing this at about two in the fucking morning. :S Also, I must say this: The Mighty Boosh and all related characters belong to Noel Fielding and whoever lucky gits have shares in it. I envy them! D: Also, Michelle Gabriella Bedille belongs to Courtney Louise Nicholson (AKA Booshgalxx) and Harley Renee Jackson belongs in my little home. XD My cweation!! Woo! Yes, she does have tattoos ... a Celtic pattern one near her bellybutton on her torso. Bye for now_

"I told you to fucking stay out of that room before, Jackson!" Howard shrieks madly at me, his warm brown eyes narrowed bitterly as he glares at me with obvious frustration.

"I did not know it was a fucking hidden labyrinth; I mean for God's sake, I was just bloody trying to get away from you, you stupid bastard!" I yell back with equal venom, loathing and rage evident in my 'common' (as Howard fucking Moon so elegantly describes it) cockney voice. "Why are you always following me?!"

"I-I'm not! Now you better fucking try to get us out of here, wh-wherever 'here' is, before I tie you up, gag you and l-leave you to die!" Howard protests, though his face colours a little in embarrassment; he's a terrible liar. Shit, the arrogant bastard has been stalking me! But ... why?

That's confusing and irritating all in one ... a certain combination I don't particularly care for ...

"Ooh, whatever. You wouldn't dare, you fucking shithead! And stop ordering me around – I can do what I fucking like!" I retort defensively yet angrily.

"Bitch! So you don't want to get out of here then, you stupid cow?!"

"Call me that one more fucking time and you'll never see your jazz records again!"

Snarling and grumbling under his breath, Howard glowers at me resentfully but refrains from commenting nastily again, and instead then averts his gaze to the mossy green floor.

As you can evidently tell now, I and one very conceited, arrogant and incensed Howard bloody fucking Moon are uncomfortably lost in this very perplexing labyrinth section of the Nabootique, which was installed for some weird reason by Vince a couple of years ago. Apparently he read in Cheekbone that it was 'in' to shag in an outdoors space or something fucking hilariously stupid like that. Always thought the editor of that bloody magazine was completely fucking cracked!

Anyway, I must explain thoroughly how I became trapped in this unfortunate situation, so I'm afraid I must take a blast from the past!! Wicked!!

God, I'm so gay sometimes ...

FLASHBACK

Sighing heavily, I walk at a leisurely pace down the seemingly deserted (except for my presence) first floor corridor, seeking out my private room that Michelle designated for me ... shame it's opposite Howard's probably impossibly gay little hellhole. Hah. Probably, he has a perfectly decent and well sized personal room and he chose to fuck it up with endless metal racks filled with crappy jazz records, faked photos (edited, of course, with Photoshop CS2, the bastard) of famous jazz musicians he's pretended to meet, and – oh yes, insanely strange jazz band posters adorning the otherwise plain wall!

Sad, freaky weirdo; his life seems to revolve solely around the shitty genre of music that we so disdainfully name 'jazz'. Aww. Poor thing.

How I love 'Howard Baiting'. Personal favourite sport, if you discount cheering for almighty Newcastle at St. James'! Good God, I can't believe they drew with Manchester United a couple of days back ... what a bloody miracle ...

Um, anyhow, I'm nearly there at my personal sanctuary; but suddenly I hear an ominous creaking sounding from a little far behind me. With absolutely no hesitation whatsoever I whip around, my face twisting into an annoyed grimace as I spot a stupid looking Howard blinking at me angrily. In all likelihood he's cursing and swearing at himself in a volatile manner inside! Fucking hope so.

Wait a minute – what the fuck's he doing, pursuing me at this time of night?! Snarling viciously and without a word to the moron a few paces opposite me, I positively run to the next damned room available and throw myself into it, panting with each short breath.

A moment later, Howard stumbles through the thick, eerie black archway (God, Vince is really a creep sometimes), appearing distinctly flushed and dishevelled.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" I snap, glaring harshly at the completely clueless, brainless idiot before me!

END FLASHBACK

"Oh, fuck it," I sigh with utter frustration and exasperation lacing my clearly annoyed tone of voice. "Just give up the argument, Moon, and help me find our way out!"

He sneers, though I see a twinge of something ... else ... at the side of his smirking mouth. "What makes you think I'm going to help you get us out of here?!"

"Oh, I take it you want me to fucking abandon you in this horrible labyrinth where anything could be lurking because of Vince's weird ... fetishes ... and try to impossibly find your way out of here alone?!"

"No!!"

Pulling a stupid face in an impression of a startled Howard at that moment, I snicker, "Well follow me then, you daft twat."

Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly steps along in line with me, and whilst hurrying along hastily we trace our hands against the brittle dark green hedges, in hope of a secret trap door that will zap us out of there. Ha, fat chance. Bitterly, we moan and grumble and Howard sinks to the floor in pathetic defeat, wiping sweat off his light brown brow.

Yuck.

"Get up already!" I yell irritably, glaring at Howard with the force of fire. Tiredly Howard manages to wrench himself upwards into an acceptable upright position, though not failing, as usual, to shoot me a less-than-content death stare.

Well, I wasn't placed here by God to satisfy him!! Who does he think I am, Angel fucking Gabriel, come to help him in his bloody time of need?!

Well, he can just go bloody fuck himself, for all I care.

"Look," I begin roughly, "Hurry the fuck up and walk with me or try and stumble through this damned shitty maze by yourself. It's your choice – but make it quick, you bastard."

"I'll be having fucking words with Vince," grumbles Howard, grumpy as ever.

"Yes you bloody will be," I agree sharply and firmly, and frankly very very pissed off. Especially since tonight I wanted to get an early night! Wanted to go clubbing; check out the places in Hackney tomorrow ... or rather, today ...

Anyway, bastard Howard has ruined everything!

Ooh, shall it be quick, painful revenge, or long, evil, incredibly drawn out vengeance? Hmm ...

Isn't it obvious? Of course - the long, evil, incredibly drawn out vengeance wins totally, hands down!

"You know," I start conversationally, "Michelle would be fucking furious about this if it came out to her, and I dare say Vince might not be too chuffed either, eh, Moon?"

Smiling overly sweetly at Howard's disbelieving and outraged expression, I chuckle.

Immediately he snaps as he suddenly drags me upright a little (didn't notice I was slumping on the wall 'til now), "Fuck, we have to hurry up and find our way back – and are you fucking implying what I think you're implying, you bitch?!"

"Shut up," I sneer. "Don't want to ... misplace ... any of your jazz records, do you now?"

Scowling, he turns away from me quickly, a pale pink tint haunting his cheeks (ooh, now he's embarrassed) and starts to walk at a pretty fast pace, concentration now etched in every line of his face. Curiously I study his face as I follow him along the winding path of this infuriating maze. Damn, could this even become any more annoying?!

Yes.

You bastard, Fate! You fucking twisted, manic, insane, completely bonkers bastard!

Finally, after what seems like fucking forever, we see a simple two-way divide in the cruel, twisted labyrinth – one path north, one path south.

"Fuck," I explain nonsensically.

"Don't think so," Howard snarls.

"Oh, fuck off and go die; you know that's not what I bloody meant. Anyway, there's a two way divide."

"Wow, Casanova, must've taken a lot of logic to figure that one out!" sneers a tired and hungry Howard in an extremely sarcastic tone.

"Look, you utterly useless moron, if you want to keep your cherished King Pleasure and the Biscuit Boys records fully intact, I suggest you shut up. Anyway, since there is a two way divide, we're obviously going to have to consider both. Right, from what I can see and tell of the north path, it looks very winded and from here at the end of it I can see at least three split pathways. I do not want to go trekking through possibly all of those three just to try and locate an exit that might not even be there; thus the south path, which looks shorter and the ground looks easier and less cobbled, also has the distinctly mild advantage of a weird looking purple archway, almost identical to the one we started off at! Well, what do you think, Moon?!"

"Pretty good logic ..." mumbled Howard thoughtfully; almost absently, the way he says it ...

Hmm, what's that all about.

Brushing off the semi-compliment (is that what it is?) breezily, I smirk, hurry down to and through the archway, with Howard following behind me in close pursuit.

Panting lightly, I appear on the other side of the damn thing, and when Howard appears he accidentally stumbles onto me and we nearly fall and sprawl on the floor. Fortunately, I swing myself up gracefully just in time, but mischievously allow Howard's lithe form to fall to the ground.

Sharply he glares at me as he props himself up, rubbing a pretty sore elbow. "You fucking did that on purpose, you bitch."

"So?"

"Oh, there's no point fucking talking to you."

"And you say women contract PMT."

"Fuck off!"

"Please do. If you're lucky, your jazz records might actually still be left as they were."

"..."

"Hmm ... they look a little bit damaged, has Vince -"

"YOU BITCH!" shrieks Howard in utter, unhidden, pure intensifying rage!

"For Gods sake, Howard," I lash out in annoyance. "They're only a couple of stupid fucking records!"

"They're not just – HEY!" he exclaimed suddenly, in a tone of total shock. "Huh ... you called me Howard."

"Did I?" I quickly cover up my slip with a slightly false grin and a fidget. "Hmm ... must be because of listening to Michelle and Vince and Bollo and that saying it all day."

Oh my God. How and why did I manage to actually mutter his first name? That is just – wrong ... it's an established fact that the word 'Howard' has never really been uttered by me. Maybe I'm turning weird, like Sybill Trelawney off Harry Potter! I'll get weird glasses, stinky, putrid perfume, grow a mingin' mane of horribly unkempt long bushy hair and weird googly eyes and a stupid etheral, 'mystical' voice ...

Oh my God, shut up, inner self! Goddamnit, just fucking snap out of it, Harley! Just shut up with your inward ranting, raving and freaking out!

An uncomfortable silence lingers and settles in the already thick atmosphere. After moments (or eons, I don't know) of silence, Howard clears his throat – somewhat nervously? - and mumbles, "Um, well, gotta go."

"Obviously." I roll my eyes tiredly. "Stupid. I mean, it's like ..." I check my silver-and-forest-green watch absentmindedly. "three in the morning!" I exclaim. "Oh shit! I'll need a lie in!"

With an amused smirk on his face, Howard throws back, "Well, duh, you fucking idiot. We've been out for about four hours on end in that damn contraption that bloody Vince of all people got set up! Of course you'll need a fucking lie in. What do you think you'd prefer, a five o'clock wake-up call from Naboo and fucking Bollo?!"

"Shut up, retard," I mutter, and stalk away from him with no hesitations. Bloody bastard. He can go back alone to his stupid stuffy room and his crappy, ancient jazz records – I just don't fucking care at all.

My eyelids are weary and very reluctant to open even a mere millimeter.

But I know who's fucking shaking me like mad, trying to wake me up at this ungodly hour.

"Naboo," I warn slowly; as if talking to a mere child, in a rasping tone, (it really fucking hurts my throat to even murmur a couple of syllables) "You either get out of my room now, unset my alarm on my phone from five in the morning to ten in the morning or later and go to Howard Moon's room and shout the fucking crap out of him, or I will personally see to it that you suffer a very painful death with your family this week and will be made into burgers when you are dead, which Howard Moon will most definitely eat, with your blood as tomato ketchup."

"Ooh, fiesty," Naboo smirks, swimming into view as my sight blurs and focuses as I force open my heavy eyelids. "Yeah, whatever, I'll let you go back to sleep, but you can shout the fucking crap out of Howard. I'm not up to that, thank you very much. Also may I be so fucking bold as to ask why you're so cranky and moody and stressed out? 'Cause Jesus, it's fucking weird how normally you're so funny and cool and now you're like Pre-Menstrual Girl with the official Hangover from Hell!"

"Shut up, you bastard, you make me sound like a fucking lunatic!" I whisper hoarsely in total indignant outrage. "I am not like Pre-Menstrual Girl in any way, so you can shut the fuck up about that, now! Also I feel I might as well tell you that last night due to Howard stalking me for some unknown fucking reason, we got trapped in this fucking retarded labyrinth that Vince stupidly set up and thus, we were stumbling about in it 'til about three in the fucking morning! There! THAT SATISFY YOU?!"

I bury my head under the warm crisp white sheets whilst furiously pounding the fluffed up white pillow next to me in an attempt to release my anger.

Quietly Naboo sneaks away, but I can still hear his huge fucking feet tapping, tapping, pounding on the high quality laminet flooring ...

WHY ME!! I FUCKING HATE FEELING LIKE THIS! FUCKING HATE, DETEST, LOATHE, DESPISE HOWARD MOON, FOREVER!! HE DID THIS ON PURPOSE, I KNOW HE DID!! BASTARD!! FUCKING STUPID SELFISH BASTARD!

It's around the exact time of half past eleven o' clock in the late morning.

Quietly I slump down onto a hard backed wooden dining chair in the dining room next to Michelle, obviously with no make up to hide my weariness, suffering and struggle – I'm fucking intent on corrupting Howard so he actually feels guilty. Of course, if Naboo yells at him, then it's a very satisfactory bonus!

Luckily, I actually feel a little better than earlier, but my back really aches, my eyes are sunken and very tired looking, and I'm sporting a consistent grimace because of the stress my light body's been forced into coping with.

I officially fucking hate that bastard Howard Moon.

Oh, I will gain revenge on him! Mwahaha ...

With a concerned note in her voice, Michelle asks sensitively, "You all right, Harley?"

"Ask Moon," I sulk, then realize I must sound pretty fucking rude to one of my lifelong best friends ... "Oh, I'm sorry I sound so aloof and terse, I've just had a rough night. Howard being a fucking bastard – as per usual."

"I'll have to talk to that moron later; ask him what he's done, the bastard," consoles Michelle, and then she raises her voice a few octaves and shouts, "Vince, can you do Harley a Full English, please? She's a bit tired and needs a bit of a wake up."

Feebly I stick my pink, wet tongue out in a moderately petulant manner and gruffly yet loudly addto Vince, (who's currently busy cooking madly in the kitchen) "I'm not that tired ... anyway ... if Howard comes down, you give him a good shouting at from me will you? He's the fucking reason I'm apparently all cranky and bitchy," I bitch sullenly.

"Will do," Vince calls back, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

Turning towards me, her chair scraping on the floor and creating a ghastly noise not unlike the sound of long fingernails groping a black board, Michelle urges, "OK, so this debacle is because of Howard the Bastard." Raking her eyes over my current appearance, she notices my tired and surly expression and the evident bags under my normally bright eyes; now dull and lifeless. "Start from the beginning."

"Well," I start weakly, "You see, for some dumb fucking stupid reason, Howard appeared to be following me last night. To get out of his sight I ran into this weird room but he followed me onto the other side, the fucking wanker. Next thing I know we're totally lost in this stupid labyrinth that Vince bought like ages ago when he had loads more money than sense! Finally, at three in the fucking morning, we manage to find our way out of that dreaful fucking place and back to our beds, and this morning I was crudely woken up at five! I went back asleep until now, though I'm still pretty tired ..."

"Aw, fuck," Michelle sympathizes. "He's a fucking bastard!"

"Yeah," I agree blearily. "He's a fucking irritating shit bastard and I HATE him! And – Vince! Don't think you're getting away with all this!!" I add loudly and angrily.

Chuckling, Vince answers back a little rudely from the other room, "What did I do this time, buy a half horse, half pig and set it on fire?"

"He got pretty shitfaced last night," Michelle explained on the sidelines.

"No, Vince," I yell, my breath rasping and my throat hurting rawly. "No, Vince, you didn't buy a half horse, half pig and set it on fire. You bought a huge fucking labyrinth when you had less sense than money and you didn't bother telling me! I got lost in there the other night with bloody fucking Howard Moon!"

"Wha ... what were you doing in there?" Vince asks pretty warily as he strolls into the room, pulls out a chair and plonks himself down opposite Michelle, though a hint of a smile is etched on his slightly pale face.

"What are you on about, guys?" Michelle inquires in confusion.

"You mean you didn't know either?" I ask Michelle tiredly.

"No ..."

"VINCE!" I exclaim. "Why didn't you tell her?!"

He smirked slightly. "Didn't feel the need to. It's only a little labyrinth."

"Little?!" I echo in disbelief, while Michelle straightens up and darts her eyes between us inquisitively. "Vince, that torturous thing was far from 'little'. It was fucking huge! Moon and I were wandering about in it until about three in the fucking morning! I mean, 'cause of that thing I look more shitfaced than you even, and you got totally fucking pissed!"

Affronted, Vince tiredly rubs his eyes. "Hey, play nice, tiger! God, didn't know you could be so pissy in the mornings. Anyway, I already asked you; what were you doing in there with Howard?"

"Why should I tell you?" I huff.

"Because if you don't I'll assume the two of you were -"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" I shriek as well as I can in my half-asleep state. "Just ... don't!"

Michelle laughed. "I think the best bet would be to tell him, Harley."

"Well I'm not!"

"Then I will then. Vince, our dear bloody poncy bastard of a friend Howard Moon decided to go stalk somebody last night, and the first person he saw happened to be Harley. She proceeded trying to get away from him by running into the nearest room she saw, which just happened to be your stupid fucking labyrinth. Howard decided to follow. They stumbled around 'til about three am and then they finally managed to get out. Therefore, that labyrinth is going to get DEMOLISHED!!" Michelle finishes powerfully.

Wow, she fucking rocks.


End file.
